


veneration

by wyverning



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hercules (1997) Fusion, Falling In Love, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Humor, M/M, Romance, damen as hercules, hercules au, laurent as megara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-11 07:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15310407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyverning/pseuds/wyverning
Summary: “Keep moving, brute,” the blond says, and it takes a moment for Damen to realize the man’s talking abouthim,not the overly-handsy creature threatening him.“But,” he protests, too caught up to even realize how frankly ridiculous it is to argue with the potential victim of an ongoing crime. “You’re a damsel.”“A damsel,” the currently-pinned man says, flatly, and although he appears to be in imminent peril he turns a disbelieving look toward Damen.  “Alright. I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a lovely day.”





	1. go the distance

Really, Damen didn’t _mean_ to destroy the marketplace.

He just got carried away, like lots of people do. It's not  _his_ fault that the people he lives among are so constantly destitute and in need of frequent help. (Well. Taking a look around at the destruction he's caused, Damen amends that it's possible he's  _sort of_ the reason why they're all so helpless and financially stricken, considering the amount of property damage he causes on a daily basis.)

“Damen,” Makedon sighs in the aftermath, and the resignation in his tone is something Damen’s well-familiar with. All structural columns within the immediate vicinity have been crushed into rubble after falling haphazardly, and only a handful of structures remain standing after Damen’s unfortunate mishap with the owner of the pottery store a few moments ago.

“I’m sorry,” he rushes to say, still covered in dust from the collapsed buildings. “I’ll fix it, I promise!”

 _“No!”_ a hundred vehement voices respond instantly, and Damen has enough shame to blush in the face of their refusal.

Makedon offers him a wry, resigned grin. “Probably not the best idea,” he says, leading him away from the epicenter of the damage. It always ends this way: Damen causing a mess, and Makedon smoothing things over with griva and redirection. He grimaces at the thought of how much alcohol it's going to take for their village to forget about this particular mishap.

As they stroll away, a few denizens brave the wreckage to see if any of their possessions and wares have survived, and they look absolutely downtrodden. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of Damen’s stomach.

“It’s not your fault,” Makedon tries, sensing his discontent, but Damen knows well enough he won’t continue. His wife’s always been the one with a way with words, not him. Makedon excels at action, not the tangled web of wordsmithing, and his advice won’t work here.

Any action Damen tries to take always ends in destruction, and little else.

“Head home without me,” Damen says, at a loss. He wants to _help,_ but every attempt at doing so ends in utter catastrophe. Doing nothing makes him feel sick with uselessness, but nobody even wants his assistance at this point.

Maybe it’s better if he stays alone. Damen owes everything to Makedon and Asteria, but it seems all he does is rack up debt because of his inhuman strength and inability to wield it.

Lost in thought, Damen stays out longer than he expected. He avoids home for just long enough to know that his adoptive parents have likely fallen asleep by now. The sky is dark and riddled with stars when he finally makes his way back, and his trek back is slow as he picks out the various constellations hanging in the night sky. Myths of the most revered figures of history filter through his mind, and he yearns to be among them instead of being known as nothing more than the village destroyer.

 

* * *

 

“Damen,” Makedon says alongside Asteria as Damen ducks into their shared home, surprised to see them still awake, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

Asteria’s eyes fill with tears as she tells him the story. It's the story of an abandoned infant, left with nothing but its own wails and a heavy medallion of gold hung round its neck. It's the story of a couple, desperate for a child to raise but cursed with the inability to conceive their own, stumbling across the miracle just before the babe would have perished on its own. It's the story of a family forged by love rather than blood.

It's the story of Damianos.

“It’s the symbol of the gods,” Asteria says, running her fingers over the emblem before handing it over to Damen. “And your name was engraved along the edge. You’re meant for great things, Damen.”

The words are an echo of how Damen’s always felt and yet been unable to articulate. The strength he's had since childhood was never meant to be a fluke, of that he’s sure: and with the confirmation of the medallion found along with him, Damen just _knows_  there’s a deeper story, here. This is the hint he needed to seek out the truth.

Saying goodbye to Makedon and Asteria is easier than Damen expected it to be, but perhaps that’s because he has no intention of truly abandoning them. He appears to have been blessed by the gods, and cannot return until he understands exactly why they’ve graced him in such a way, but he can’t imagine a world where he would forget everything his adoptive parents have done for him.

Makedon claps him on the back as Asteria wipes at a few fallen tears, and it feels like a new beginning.

Damen holds up the metal with his past and future, and sets toward the pantheon that holds tributes to the gods.

 

* * *

 

The temple is dark and empty as he approaches, but Damen still feels _something_ despite the fact that he’s the only one present. The skin on the back of his neck prickles with awareness, and he sweeps his gaze around the temple floor, passing over the various statues of gods and goddesses that riddle the sacred building as though their stoic faces will give him the truth he’s searching for.

They remain silent in their vigilance, staring beyond the temple walls as Damen passes by. It doesn’t take long to come across the statue bearing the same symbol on the medallion Damen carries with him, but it’s startling to realize exactly _who_ bears the mark.

He’s no fool — he recognizes the visage of the god of sky and thunder instantly.

Damen doesn’t know entirely what it means, but it’s closer to the truth than he’s ever gotten before. He’s never questioned his strength, or the affinity he’s always had for the storms that blow across their lands, but if he had the blessing of the gods, even as a child...

A soft nicker echoes throughout the temple, interrupting his thoughts, and Damen spins on his heel at the sound.

A horse stands in the temple — _no,_ it’s something more. Just beyond the horse’s withers sprout gorgeous, full wings of pure white, and Damen’s heard stories of such divine steeds before, although he's never seen one in-person. The creature is as shockingly lovingly as the tales about it proclaimed, and Damen admires it from afar. It approaches gracefully, all long limbs and sleek fur, and he can't help the wondrous smile that bursts forth on his features.

Even more peculiar than the timely arrival of a pegasus is how easily the creature seems to ease into comfort around Damen: he approaches with the sort of trust that horses only display around those they know best, and when Damen raises a hand, the pegasus’s muzzle tilts to meet his touch within moments.

It’s awe-inspiring, to say the least.

Damen’s so caught up in the experience that it takes him a few minutes to notice the ribbon looped around the pegasus’s neck. He tugs on it until the scribbled note attached to it is within his view. It reads, _To prove yourself worthy of the gods, find Nikandros, and discover what it truly means to become a hero._

It’s all a little bit _too_ convenient, but Damen’s not going to look a literal gift horse in the mouth. If he’s truly been blessed by the god of sky and thunder, then he supposes it isn't unreasonable for magical horses to approach him in his time of need to point him in the right direction. At this point, more clues about the path he's meant to follow are definitely something Damen wants to encourage.

He sets out of the temple alongside the pegasus with the fire of hope kindled in his breast.

 

* * *

 

The two of them find Nikandros on accident.

It’s been a few weeks of fruitless travel with Damen and his steed traveling to all of the nearby villages in search of the legendary trainer, Nikandros. They've had no luck, other than hearing outlandish claims of his prowess, which inspires Damen further to find him despite the lack of substantial leads he's received. They land in a town named Delpha to restock Damen’s food supplies and rest before continuing on their journey. A nearby tavern appears to be bustling with activity, and so Damen ducks into it, hoping to find a warm meal and a new lead on where to find the trainer of heroes who seemingly vanished into thin air. 

After sweeping his gaze around the room, Damen’s eyes fall on a man lounging on a chaise in a far-off corner. There are a few beautiful and barely-dressed women attending to him, their long limbs draping over his frame and their hair done up in elaborate styles. He looks pleased as can be, murmuring quietly to the ladies as they smile coyly back at him.

“I’m looking for Nikandros,” Damen says as he moves toward the man, because even if it’s uncomfortable to approach someone surrounded by gorgeous women and clearly preoccupied by them, this stranger definitely knows his way around town. It makes him a prime target for questioning, and besides, even if Damen isn’t rich enough to afford one of the renowned bedslaves of Delpha, he has enough coin to ply the man with a drink or two should his information be useable.

“Call me Nik,” the man says, against all odds, gesturing to one of the women draped over him. She slides sinuously away, winking at him with a giggle as he moves into a less reclined position. “What do you want?”

“ _You’re_ Nikandros?” Damen says. He isn’t really sure what he expected, chasing a name that arrived around the neck of a flying horse, but it wasn’t… this.

“And you’re repeating yourself,” Nikandros — Nik, Damen supposes, if he’s to be believed — says. “Why are you here?”

“You have to train me,” Damen says quickly, too dumbfounded to say much else. “... Please?”

Nikandros looks decidedly unimpressed. “Did you honestly interrupt my pleasant evening to beg for things you’ll never receive?”

Damen knows he doesn’t look like much, but if there’s anything he _is_ good at, it’s being persistent. “I’m going to be a hero, and you’re going to help me.”

“Nope, not interested.”

Okay, his mettle is definitely being tested, and Nikandros’s steadfast denial has him flustered. “But — I have the blessing of the gods!”

Nikandros squints at him, taking a swig from his cup. Whatever he’s drinking smells fouler than the alcohol Makedon makes from scratch. _“You?_ Blessed by the gods?”

At a loss for anything else to do, Damen pulls out the medallion. “The people who raised me found this on me when I was a baby, and I was recently sent to find you.”

There’s a beat of silence as the man inspects the metal. “How do I know this isn’t forged?” There’s some skepticism in his tone, but the longer Nikandros peers at the emblem stamped on the medallion, the less sure of deceit he seems.

“Do people really do things like that around here?” Damen asks. “What a dishonest way of living.”

“You’d be surprised,” Nikandros says, looking resigned. “Alright. I’ll try _one more time._ But you’re my last chance, kid. If this falls through, I’m retiring for good.”

“Thank you,” Damen says, genuinely meaning it. “I won’t let you down.”

 

* * *

 

(Damen _does_ let him down, though, at first. He has raw, unrefined strength, but that doesn’t mean much when he’s meant to save people while simultaneously eliminating nearby threats. He has to learn to be gentle where it counts, and he’s startlingly bad at it when they first begin. It's no wonder Nik had been so recalcitrant upon their first meeting: if he had to suffer training so many witless heroes in the past, Damen can hardly blame him for not wanting to renew the process with a scrawny boy approaching out of nowhere with proclamations of being blessed by the gods.

Training is brutal, and it takes the better part of a year before Damen learns the art of finesse and how to hone his abilities into as great a weapon as the sword he carries at his side.

But finally, _finally_ even Nik looks at him with something like satisfaction, and Damen knows he’s ready to prove his worth.)

 

* * *

 

They’re flying to the city of Ios when sounds of a disagreement reach them, argued words carried on the wind up to the altitude Pegasus is flying at.

“Unhand me,” a voice shouts from below, and Nik grins.

“Sounds like a typical damsel in distress,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “You remember your training?”

Damen feels giddy with the excitement of finally using his abilities to save someone, and quickly indicates for Pegasus to take them closer to ground level. His steed lands softly beneath the cover of trees, and Damen’s quick to dismount and investigate the altercation.

"Govart," Damen hears a smooth voice speaking as he approaches. "Even you have to recognize how beneath me it is to engage in your desires."

“Your words don’t have as much bite when you’re caught at a disadvantage like this,” a gravelly, too-satisfied voice responds, and the direction of their conversation is disgusting enough that Damen _has_ to intervene.

It’s as bad as he’d suspected: there’s a grotesque-looking centaur pinning a much smaller form against a rock formation just beside the crashing waves of a waterfall. From this distance, Damen can’t discern much about the figure other than that they’re human with tumbling locks of golden hair, and they’re obviously in distress.

“I’m going to have to ask you to unhand that d-damsel,” he says, though his words lilt at the end, like he’s asking a question. Now that he's closer, Damen realizes that the pinned figure is definitely male, and he's not positive that men technically qualify as _damsels,_ but the blond is certainly a _something_ in distress, and gods, Damen should’ve asked Nik to clarify the terminology when it came to rescuing people before he ran into this issue —

“Keep moving, brute,” the blond says, and it takes a moment for Damen to realize the man’s talking about _him,_ not the overly-handsy creature threatening him.

“But,” he protests, too caught up to even realize how frankly ridiculous it is to argue with the potential victim of an ongoing crime. “You’re a damsel.”

“A damsel,” the currently-pinned man says, flatly, and although he appears to be in imminent peril he turns a disbelieving look toward Damen.  “Alright. I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a lovely day.”

And — okay, Damen’s not _quite_ a professional hero, but even he knows this is remarkably off-script. He figures actions may convey his intentions moreseo than words, and quickly sets about defeating the centaur. His biggest mistake is yanking the creature back by the thick, matted mane of fur along the back of his neck — as Damen does so, the centaur protests with a spitting curse, and scrabbles for purchase against anything that will help him resist Damen’s grasp.

Unfortunately, the closest thing is the man he’s currently accosting.

Against Damen’s strength, the man’s slender frame doesn’t manage to withstand the impromptu tug-of-war match, and he slips unceremoniously out of Govart’s grasp — and into a deeper pool of river water, submerging himself entirely as Damen pulls the centaur away.

There’s a splash of water and some indignant sputtering, and Damen wants to shout an apology to the man-damsel, but he’s too busy taking a punch to the face to do much else than stumble back a few steps.

Embarrassment over accidentally causing the man to fall into the river spurs him on, and Damen makes short work of the centaur after that. Govart’s strong, and much larger than even Damen’s muscular frame, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s used to hefting his weight around clumsily and getting his way through sheer size and bulk.

That won’t fly against Damen, who’s been training with Nik for months. Dispatching him takes only a few minutes, and Govart’s left lying in the shallow waters of the river, unconscious and bloody.

"Is he for real?" the man murmurs to Nik as Damen double-checks to make sure Govart is truly incapacitated. He’s just close enough to hear the exchange, but pretends he can’t, moving to run a hand down the length of Pegasus’s soft neck in praise.

"As real as you unfortunately are," Nik responds in kind, though Damen's not sure exactly what's soured his mood so quickly. Damen's being successfully heroic, right? Shouldn't he receive some sort of praise?

Damen approaches the two of them, and is immediately fixed with a stern glare from Nik.

“Stay focused,” he warns as the blond man turns to perch on a nearby rock and squeeze the water from his hair. It's a bizarre thing to say, because Damen doesn’t think he’s ever been more focused on anyone in his life.

“Sorry,” Damen says, gesturing to the man’s waterlogged state. “I should’ve… accounted for the fact that he’d grab you for stability.”

“Yes,” the man says disdainfully. “You should have.”

Even insults sound lovely rolling off his tongue, Damen can’t help but think. “What’s, ah... what’s your name?”

"Laurent," he says, running a hand through soaked hair. It's almost astonishing how good the man — Laurent — makes soaking wet look. "Those who know me call me an ice cold bitch, but that’s likely because I don’t have any friends to call me anything nicer.”

The only thing that looks cold about Laurent right now his his skin. Damen aches to fold him into his own arms, warming him up from the chill of the river.

Laurent appears not to notice his heated gaze. "Did they give you a name along with those—" and he waves a hand in Damen's general direction "—muscles?"

"D-Damianos," he manages to stutter, eyes catching on the way the thin white (and _wet,_ oh gods) fabric of his clothing clings to his frame.

“Are you always this articulate?”

Damen’s never struggled with words before — well, there _was_ that time he’d destroyed an entire building on accident after the local merchant’s daughter, Jokaste, had asked him how he was doing, but that was _different —_ and it’s not a great feeling. He must look a fool, because Laurent offers him an amused look.

"I think I prefer _brute_ ," Laurent says flippantly after a moment, hopping off of the rock he'd settled on. "Thank you for your... assistance, but I'll be on my way now."

“Do you need a ride?” he offers, desperate to prolong this interaction. He ignores the piercing glare he can feel at the back of his neck coming from Nik, because clearly Nik has terrible taste if he doesn’t see how valuable Laurent’s… friendship would be.

Laurent does seem interested for the briefest of moments, eyes lighting as they catch on Pegasus. Damen’s horse appears to be much less pleased, though, as he pins his ears back and lets out an undignified snort.

“It would appear as though your steed has passed judgment,” Laurent murmurs, and there’s a flash of something remorseful in his eyes before it disappears into cool neutrality. “I’ll walk, but thanks for the offer, brute.”

Damen watches him walk away to the tune of Nik’s grumbling.

 

* * *

 

"You were meant to procure me the river guardian's loyalty," the Regent of the Underworld says calmly, though his unhappiness is visible if one knows where to look.

(And Laurent does, of course. There’s a tightness to his mouth and a slightly uncontrolled quality to the flames surrounding him, and he’s not in any mood to get burned.)

"I tried," Laurent responds, because it's the truth. "It's not my fault his offer of loyalty was contingent on the most tasteless of terms. And we were interrupted, anyway. Some boy named Damianos with a hero complex who felt entitled to barge in on our negotiations.”

The words are a misstep. Laurent realizes this too late, as the oppressive feeling of heat overwhelms him. Without a single lick of visible flame, he feels the fire burning up against his skin and fights off the instinct to flinch or show any sort of weakness in front of the god he’s sold his soul to.

" _What_ did you say his name was?"

 


	2. zero to hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nik looks about ready to murder Damen on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, uh. this took an age and a half to actually finish. whoops.

Nik looks about ready to murder Damen on the spot.

“To be fair,” Damen starts, “when I first met you, you were definitely doing _much worse_ —”

Nik bites out from behind gritted teeth, "As a retired trainer of heroes, I am  _absolutely_ allowed to pursue whatever bodily pleasures I wish to seek.  _You,_ however, are trying to build a reputation, and you can't afford to get caught up in the first pair of pretty blue eyes that you see—"  
  
"At least you can admit they're pretty, too," Damen tries, already thinking about Laurent's piercing gaze.

“Your feet?" Nik says, pointing at them as though the visual is absolutely necessary. "They're barely wet. Sure, it’s good for public image if you have people swooning over you left and right, but you're going to need to do a hell of a lot more if you're actually serious about this." He squints at Damen, then. "And you'd  _better_ be, because I'm going to be pissed if we wasted all of this time just so you could fuck the first blond you came across."

Nik’s words have their intended effect, and Damen's mood sobers instantly.

“I understand what you're saying,” he says. “But… if Laurent needs my help again, you have to know I’m going to do whatever it takes.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, kid,” Nik sighs. "You did good today, but you can't let one success go to your head. It's going to take some intense grovelling and proof of your heroics to earn an ounce of respect around here."

Damen nods, and resigns himself to thinking about Laurent away from Nik's presence. (So what if he's probably pining over something that'll never happen?)

The two of them settle into the city quickly, and it isn’t long before Damen’s reputation begins to build within the city. Hero work isn’t always incredibly glamorous — it often takes the form of displays of intimidation in the face of would-be thieves, or tasks that average townspeople are incapable of doing, like lifting heavy rocks out of pathways to allow horses drawing heavy carts to pass through. 

It doesn't help that the townspeople seem to believe that Damen's all talk and no action. It's almost like they don't even  _want_ a hero in their midst, which is befuddling at the best of times and downright infuriating at the worst. Can't they see he's trying to help? It'd be nice if something fell into his lap to prove to them all that he wants to do good. 

Something like...

“Damianos,” a voice gasps from behind him as he's strolling through the marketplace, attempting to find another task to complete to reinforce the villagers' trust in him.

“Laurent?” Damen asks disbelievingly, placing the voice instantly. He’s seen neither hair nor hide of the man since the first time they’d met, and he can't quite staunch the excitement in his voice at running into him once again. 

This is no time for a leisurely reunion, though. Damen can identify that much in a heartbeat.

“You need to come, _now,”_ Laurent barks. He looks incredibly harried, hair tangled in disarray around his shoulders. His eyes are wide with fear and his chest heaves with exertion, as though he'd run a long distance before stumbling across Damen's path. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” He looks uninjured, but wounds are not always readily visible. Nik had taught him to be calm and assess emergencies before diving impulsively into the fray, and Damen waits for Laurent's response.

"I'm fine," he says quickly, wrapping his fingers around Damen's wrist and forcibly tugging him along. "There were some kids playing down by the hills, and the recent rains unsettled the silt on the hillside. There was a cave-in. You've got to rescue them before—" 

"Take me to them," Damen says definitively. It's a good thing Laurent managed to find him so quickly. Thick mud can be suffocating, especially if there are panicked children trapped without a clear source of oxygen.

They hurry down the winding trail into the nearby ravines, and Damen understands immediately why Laurent had required his help: alongside the mud that had fallen in the landslide, heavy chunks of rock and debris have settled near the bottom of one of the smaller ravines. The battered trunk of a tree blocks the path, and Damen sets to work as soon as they approach. Time is of the essence, and he can't risk an even worse cave-in, and as such the endeavor takes time. Damen's learned how to utilize his strength properly and in thoughtful rather than impulsive ways, and he follows Laurent's verbal advice ("No, brute, leave that branch for now, don't you see that the rocks above it would collapse if you moved it before dispatching them first?") until he can hear the clear shouts of concern from the children trapped inside.

When Damen finally clears away a rock that reveals a fairly sturdy escape route from the mudslide, the children hurry out quickly. There's two of them, and they're filthy from the mud, but gratitude is clear in their eyes as they shower him with _thank you_ s! and promises of repayment through  _my mom's baked bread_ and  _a drawing once I get rinsed off and find my charcoal!_

Damen realizes belatedly that a crowd has gathered: they must've heard the commotion, or seen Damen and Laurent hurrying out of the town square, but it's for the best: the kids vanish into the crowd immediately, presumably to reunite with their parents. He can't help but heave a great, relieved sigh once it's over, glad that nobody has been injured more seriously. 

A deep, rumbling growl greets Damen's sense of satisfaction, and goosepimples raise instinctively on his forearms at the noise. At first, he wonders if it's another mudslide, and the growl is the sound of the earth unsettling. 

The puff of hot, rancid breath against his back quickly answers that question, though. Damen turns and finds himself face-to-face with a hulking monster of a beast. It has a long, skinny neck, and although it's huge in comparison to even Damen's bulk, it doesn't seem too eager to go on the offensive. Damen's immediate concern is the safety of the gathered crowd, and as such he doesn't bother with theatrics. He fells the beast in just a few slashes, satisfied by the way his sword slices through its neck like hot butter. The creature's head falls with a loud  _thump,_ cleanly separated from its body.

"Aw, hell," he mumbles, slack-jawed as the creature's spine arches rigidly. Where it had laid slack in death, now it appears to reverse the permanent sentence, and he watches as the beast's neck slithers about like a snake before  _two_ heads grow quickly into existence from where Damen had cleaved its previous one from its neck.

Nik's words rattle around in his head:  _Never,_ never _try to behead a hydra. Where one head falls, two will replace it._

Damen's kind of an idiot. He throws himself into battle, trying to overwhelm the beast with offensive strikes, but nothing seems to work: it continues to get back up, new heads replacing the ones that have been sliced, bashed in, and destroyed by Damen's strength. It feels like hours pass as he fights, and despite his growing fatigue, the hydra never seems to weaken. 

It looks like a wretched monster, now, countless heads snarling and focused on bringing about Damen's demise. He's exhausted, frankly, from dealing with the infinite heads, and it's just the advantage the beast needs — one of the larger heads opens its gaping maw, and Damen's sword hand is too slippery with blood from the hydra's severed heads to be a truly formidable weapon before those teeth are closing in on him. 

Being eaten alive definitely wasn't on his to-do list for the day.

This would be certain death for a lesser human, Damen knows. Unfortunately for the hydra, he's dealing with something much worse, and Damen grins as he hefts the solid weight of his sword from within the creature's belly and begins to slash. It's disgusting work, and certainly isn't going to win him any bonus points with Nik once all of this is over, but it's going to make one hell of a story. Makedon's going to piss himself with laughter when he learns of how Damen defeated a gods-damned  _hydra_ by ravaging its insides with a blade after being eaten.

When he emerges, filthy and covered in gore, Damen sweeps his gaze around the awe-struck crowd. Laurent's nowhere to be seen — it's possible he went off with the children, Damen supposes. Or something. It's almost a blessing in disguise; he's not too sure that being covered in hydra guts would woo Laurent in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

(From afar, Laurent has to hide his smile from the Regent, who fumes silently beside him.)

 

* * *

 

His name spreads like wildfire after defeating the hydra, and Damen feels closer to fulfilling his potential than ever before. By now even Makedon and Asteria must’ve heard about his exploits, and that fills him with a warm pride that settles deep in his belly.

He doesn’t gain any further confirmation from the gods, but approval of the people he’s become adept at protecting feels just as validating, if he’s being honest. It definitely doesn't hurt to see Laurent more frequently, offering him words that toe the line between scathing and just barely complimentary. It's an interesting balance to strike, and Damen certainly has no complaints.

 

* * *

 

Damen’s training when Laurent approaches, and he tries not to be _too_ obvious about picking up one of the heftier weights as Laurent comes closer.

“Do you really need to be stronger than you already are?” the blond asks, though Damen notices his eyes lingering on his exposed chest as he lifts the weights above his head. Laurent’s feelings may still be unclear, but Damen’s positive he’s attracted to him, at least, and he can definitely work with that.

Laurent leans up against a nearby column, crossing his arms like he owns the place. “Take the day off and spend it with me, brute.”

He’s amused at Laurent’s forwardness. “Are you asking or telling me?”

“We both know you’re going to agree,” Laurent says, the beginnings of a smirk quirking up his lips. “So I’ll let you pretend I’m asking, for your sake.”

“How kind of you,” Damen responds, but he’s already placing the weights down on the ground. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Things have been quiet on the hero front today, and he can always cut their time together short if an emergency does arise.

Besides, it isn’t like it’s a _true_ hardship to spend some quality time with the handsome blond. They end up meandering aimlessly, talking about insignificant things like how Laurent will never truly sate his craving for baklava or how Damen had been training with Nik to try and defeat a chimera. (He's not actually sure chimera exist, but the rigorous exercises he's gone through over the past week will certainly help if he does happen to encounter one.)  

Laurent takes him to a play. It's embarrassing to admit, but Damen can't remember a single detail about the play itself; he's far too caught up in cataloguing every single one of Laurent's minute reactions to the actors upon the stage. Each slight huff of laughter as a joke plays out gets tucked away in his memories like a cherished gift, and he smiles like a fool even after the final applause has rung out and the actors have vacated the theater. 

It's a lovely way to spend the evening, and it's surprising to learn how nice it can be to forget about being a hero for even a few hours.

The more time they spend together, the more convinced Damen is that this isn't merely a fleeting attraction. While that's  _absolutely_ part of it  _—_ Laurent looks as though he could be a god himself, with refined cheekbones and tumbling locks of soft hair  _—_ Damen finds himself captivated by much more than appearances. Laurent's intellect is whip-quick, and his sense of humor has Damen in stitches multiple times throughout the night. It appears as though he's not the only one relaxing into the comfort of their growing relationship, and he finds himself ever-so-hopeful that this evening will work in his favor.

They're strolling through the gardens, catching up on some gossip, when Laurent turns to him mid-sentence: " _—_ and anyway, Kyra has no reason to be upset considering _—_ _ah—"_ and then Laurent interrupts himself with a soft gasp as he stumbles over the final step they're walking down. Damen's reflexes kick in instantaneously, wrapping an arm around Laurent's waist and using the momentum of his fall to spin them in a neat half-circle. It effectively prevents them from ending up in a disheveled heap on the ground, and has the added benefit of having Laurent drawn so closely against Damen's chest.

"So noble," Laurent says, pink dusting his cheeks as he properly rights himself. Detaching himself from Damen's grip, his lashes fan across his cheeks as his eyelids flutter.

Damen chuckles, "Maybe you  _are_ a damsel in distress, with that kind of coordination." The words interrupt his thoughts, forcing him to  _not_  think too hard about how nice it had felt to have Laurent pressed so closely against him. 

"And maybe I should kick your ass for saying such a thing," Laurent responds, though his words are soft. He sidles up to Damen again almost before Damen can recognize what's happening. "Or maybe I should shut you up in some other way, hm?"

The words, paired with Laurent's sudden shift in tone, send a bolt of pure heat chasing down Damen's spine. It's like one of his fantasies come to life. Laurent, purring and seductive and entirely interested in him like  _that._

Damen knows it can't be real, though. There's something between them, but this sudden shift in attitude is entirely out of character. Whatever the game is, Damen's not interested in playing.

He presses gently against Laurent's shoulders to give them both some space, exhaling softly and trying to consider the reasoning for Laurent's abrupt change in behavior. Had he been too obvious about his intentions?  Is it a gratitude thing? Does Laurent think he needs to reward Damen treating him like a  _human being_ by acting like... this?

Laurent looks briefly furious before his features smooth over, and the moment passes by so quickly Damen's not sure if he imagined it. 

"Are you alright?" Damen asks, for lack of anything better to say. He's confused and passes a quick glance over Laurent's frame to ensure he's entirely intact. His eyes catch on the fabric of Laurent's chiton, which had slipped and now reveals a creamy sliver of Laurent's bare shoulder. Damen swallows thickly, briefly distracted before he manages to rip his gaze away. It had just been an accident. He has no right to drink in every ounce of Laurent's flesh like he already owns him. 

"Fine," Laurent says, voice clipped. He steps away with finality, turning his attention toward a sculpture resting in the middle of a nearby fountain. Damen gives him the space he needs, and ends up settling nearby, lying on a bed of grass as he stares at the stars. It feels like hours pass before Laurent finally joins him, but whatever had happened between them seems to have evaporated into nothing. Laurent is quiet, but the silence isn't uncomfortable, and they watch as shooting stars streak across the midnight sky.

The stars are beautiful, and Damen stares in awe. Underneath the wide expanse of sky, he feels tiny, and vulnerable. “When I was younger, I wanted to be like everyone else.”

“You wanted to be manipulative and dishonest?” mutters Laurent, the thread of disdain in his voice so transparent that Damen’s taken aback for the briefest of moments.

“People aren’t like that,” he says firmly, turning to face the blond. Laurent looks away, mouth tugging down into a frown.

“Yes, they are.” There’s a finality to Laurent’s words that Damen’s never heard before, and a heavy feeling settles in his stomach. He knows that Laurent’s experienced hardship before, but the man keeps his trauma close to his chest, and Damen’s never been one to pry.

Right now, all Damen wants to do is soothe every bit of hurt Laurent has ever felt before. He pushes himself into a sitting position, trying to wrangle Laurent into a half-sitting hug, but it's an absolute wreck. Laurent's not keen on being dragged across the grass, and Damen's at such a strange angle that they end up collapsing together in a fit of ridiculous laughter.

"Can we try that again?" he says, standing up and holding a hand out for Laurent to grip. It's far easier to loop his arms around Laurent's waist like this, and Laurent settles against his chest. The moment feels intimate, and they're so close that Damen can feel Laurent's breath against his neck. He's so close that he can count the long eyelashes that fan out against Laurent's cheeks as he averts his gaze, and Damen wants this moment to last forever.

The hug will suffice, although that it’s not _really_ what he wants to do.

“I would never hurt you,” Damen murmurs into the golden shine of Laurent’s hair. He wonders if he’s acting too bold, but after Laurent’s… display earlier, and the way that Laurent hasn’t yet tensed against his embrace, it can’t be too unwelcome.

Laurent exhales slowly. He remains loose in Damen's grasp, though there's a line of tension held in his shoulders that has yet to dissipate. “This was an unwise idea," he says, finally. "Let’s both do ourselves a favor and end this before you get hurt.”

"What?" Damen asks, caught entirely off-guard. He'd thought the night had gone fairly well, all things considered. There's also something there, given Laurent's interesting choice of words, and Damen is about to pepper him with questions when they're rudely interrupted. 

 _“Damen,_ ” a voice snaps, and Laurent jolts out of his grasp as though it’d been _his_ name that Nik had angrily shouted. “Where have you been?”

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business,” Damen responds just as angrily. The loss of Laurent’s warmth against his own skin bites harder than the cool air around them, and suddenly he’s fed up with Nik’s constant hovering.

“It’s fine,” Laurent cuts in smoothly. He doesn’t even look the slightest bit flustered. “I was just saying goodbye, anyway. Have a good evening, Damianos. Nikandros.”

Nik scrowls as Laurent steps out of hearing range. “You’re supposed to be _preventing_ trouble, not getting into it. What if someone needed help and you were too busy… canoodling to save them?”

“I don’t need you to _parent_ me,” Damen snaps, finally at his wit’s end. He’s a gods-damned adult, and it’s beyond frustrating to be interrupted and shamed like he’s some sort of _child_. “Makedon did a much better job than you, anyway.”

“Damen—“ Nik starts, but Damen doesn’t want to hear it. It’d felt almost like he’d begun to unravel the mystery of Laurent’s perpetual coldness and fear of getting too close, only for all progress to be undone the instantly Nik had appeared. His blood simmers just beneath his skin, a reminder that his strength is a dangerous power when he’s not in full control of his emotions. It’s easier to run away than risk damaging something — or some _one_ — because of his anger.

He whistles for Pegasus, who swoops down from a nearby building and takes flight again the moment Damen’s mounted him.

Damen doesn’t return to their shared home for a long while.

 

* * *

 

The sun is just a few hours away from breaching the sky when Damen finally makes his way back, and he realizes with shock that Nik is still up. Pegasus nickers at the man, and Nik shakes his head as if snapping out of a daze. He’s slumped against the entrance columns of their shared home, and he looks like he's been there for awhile, judging by the rumpled state of his clothing.

“That man is trouble,” Nik says, which is definitely _not_ what Damen wants to hear coming off of their recent fight. “I know you don’t believe me, but after you left—“

“I’m really not interested in hearing this right now,” Damen says, more resigned than angry. He’s sure Nik has nothing new to tell him than hunches and suspicions, anyway.

“Damen,” Nik says firmly. Surprised, Damen meets his eyes to see a fierce determination blazing in them. “Listen to me. I followed Laurent once you left, and it’s… it’s not good. He’s dealing with the god of the underworld. I heard them talking, and Laurent’s pretty firmly under his thumb. Don’t get sucked in any further than you already are.”

Damen wants to deny it. Wants to argue that the loneliness he’s seen deep in Laurent’s eyes and in the way he holds himself is genuine, and the connection between them is borne from something far too _real_ to be manufactured.

Nik’s next words are quiet with conviction, though. “I wouldn’t lie about this. Be angry with me for discovering the truth, but don’t doubt the veracity of my words. Sleep on it.”

He steps inside quietly, leaving Damen alone with his thoughts and a stomach roiling with the turmoil of his closest friend’s words.

He isn’t alone for long, though.

“I suppose I should be unsurprised by how someone like you has swayed Laurent to your side,” a man’s voice drawls from behind Damen, and Damen spins on his heel to see the Regent, god of the dead and the Underworld, standing before him. Blue flames lick at the edges of his fingers.

“Laurent?” Damen repeats, eyes widening. He thinks about what Nik just told him. “What have you done with him?”

Stories of the ruthlessness of the god of death permeate every edge of modern culture. Damen would be a fool to take him lightly, and he readies a hand on the pommel of his sword just in case.

“Nothing he didn’t already agree to,” the god drawls. “But now he’s gotten himself into a bit of trouble, and needs a hero to rescue him. Are you up for the job?”

With an overly casual wave of his hand, Laurent appears out of thin air, just a few feet out of Damen’s reach.

“Damianos, don’t believe hi—” Laurent’s words cut off as dark tendrils swirl around him and effectively silence him. He falls to the ground, hard, and Damen lunges forward in an aborted attempt to catch him.

He’s stopped by the grasp of a hand on his shoulder. It still him entirely, an unwarranted shiver wracking his body at the touch.

“This strength you have,” the Regent of the Underworld says, “would you consider relinquishing it for an entire day if it meant saving Laurent?”

“Yes,” Damen says immediately and fiercely, because seeing Laurent entangled and captured makes his heart ache. It doesn’t matter if this is some sort of ruse — Laurent’s in trouble. That’s the only important thing. “If you promise no harm whatsoever will come to him.”

“A deal’s a deal,” the god says, stretching out a hand. It disgusts Damen to do so, but he shakes on the agreement, and a heartbeat passes before agonizing pain suddenly courses through his veins like fire.

He can’t help but fall to his knees in misery, overcome by the pain enveloping his entire body. The Regent vanishes along with Laurent’s restraints, and as soon as he’s gone, Damen fights against the pain to ensure that their deal has left Laurent unharmed.

“You are a fool to barter with him,” Laurent spits the moment Damen crawls over to him. “Even worse than I was.”

“You’re alright, though,” Damen says, and even through the torment he feels a rush of relief.

“What good is my safety if the Regent destroys the very world we live on?” Laurent responds angrily.  “At least all I lost was my own soul, but now you’ve doomed _everyone,_ you gigantic barbarian—“ In an act of frustration, or maybe desperation, Laurent lashes out at him, hands balled into fists as he punches Damen’s weakened chest.

It hurts, but not as much as Laurent’s apparent anger at _saving_ him.

“What do you mean?” Damen asks, catching Laurent’s hands in his own. The burn of pain fades along with all of his remaining strength, and his hands shake even as his fingers wrap around Laurent’s. The bones of Laurent’s wrists have always seemed so delicate compared to his own much hardier stature, but left weak and powerless, Damen feels just as fragile.

Laurent shakes his head frantically, working himself into such a fury that his hair sprawls out wildly around his face. “The Regent’s aiming for a hostile takeover of Olympus, and you’ve no powers, effectively eliminating the only threat to his plan. Why would you ever think I was worth _anything,_ even after discovering how I’ve deceived you?”

Nik’s words hit him full-force, all of a sudden, and Damen blanches. “Nik was right. You… you were working with him.”

The blond makes a disgusted noise. “You’re easier to play than a well-tuned lyre, Damianos. Do you truly think I’d waste time with you unless it was to my benefit?”

The barb hits as intended, knocking the air out of his chest and digging deep to settle like a poison in his breast. Everything hurts — his body, his head, his heart. Damen makes a wounded noise, recoiling away from Laurent.

He hardly recognizes the flinch of hurt that passes quickly through Laurent’s features. It doesn’t make sense, anyway, for someone capable of such vitriol to be injured by Damen’s visible horror.

Laurent continues, as if the floodgates have been opened and his only goal has ever been to break Damen’s heart. “You were entertaining enough at the start, but it didn’t take long before I had to remind myself why I’d even bother with your stupidity. You were a means to an end, brute, and—“

“Stop,” Damen says softly, voice a wreck. “There’s no — you’ve succeeded. I have nothing. You and the Regent win.”

“I’ve won _nothing_ now, you utter fool,” Laurent snarls, and while he looked angry before, now he looks entirely unhinged. “The Regent will _never_ hand my brother over now that you aren’t a threat, he used us _both—”_

For a moment, Damen’s convinced that Laurent’s anger is so potent that it has actually cracked the earth in two. The ground shakes with a bone-deep fury before a wretched howling noise fills the air, and then the sound of metal squeals and crunches loud in the air. Before Damen’s eyes, the ground splits apart, and mere heartbeats pass before gigantic, gnarled claws emerge from the cracks and death-defying beasts pull themselves out from the bowels of the earth. They're grotesque creatures, and he doesn't need to have seen them before to know exactly what has just emerged.

“The Titans,” he breathes in disbelief, and Laurent huffs out something that might pass for a spiteful laugh.

Damen’s scrabbling for his sword before he can even think. It’s instinct at this point, ingrained deeply in his muscles to fight against any threat present. It doesn’t matter that his strength has been sapped completely: this city has grown to be his home, and he owes it to all of the lives of the townspeople he's saved time and time again to throw his all at this new and immediate danger.

He’ll fight to the death, if necessary. A Titan cannot be allowed to roam free.

It's fortunate that the Titan appears to instantly recognize him as a threat, honing in on him instead of causing damage closer to the more populated areas of the city. Damen steadies himself _—_ a difficult task, given the lack of strength in his body now  _—_ but he's prepared to do whatever it will take.

The Titan's tail, a thick, stumpy thing, swings haphazardly as it wheels around to face him, and the appendage slams relentlessly into the concrete columns lining the training grounds. Damen's too used to his abilities working toward his advantage, and as such he doesn't recognize the threat the falling wreckage presents until it's too late.

The pillars surrounding the training grounds begin to crumble and fall, and it's only then that Damen acknowledges that he may not be impervious to their damage as they crash down around him. For a fleeting moment, Damen finds himself thinking,  _Good._ Let them crush him — surely the mortal pain will hurt less than the agony of his heart at the realization of Laurent’s betrayal.

“Damianos!” Laurent shouts loudly, voice cracking as he yells, and Damen hardly has a second to react as a heavy impact knocks into him. He realizes belatedly that it’s Laurent’s body knocking him out of the way of falling rubble, but he’s too late to do anything other than watch with wide eyes as a huge column falls down directly where he’d just been standing — and where Laurent is standing now.

He falls beneath the weight of the pillar, and a ragged yell is ripped from Damen’s throat as it happens. His heart beats so rapidly it threatens to burst from his chest as he wrenches the wreckage off of Laurent. Damen’s arms burn from the strain and effort of heaving the column off of Laurent’s crushed body, praying desperately and futilely that the pillar fell in such a way as to have done minimal damage.

Laurent does not appear to have been so lucky.

“Why would you _do_ that?” he manages to gasp around the lump in his throat. His words are still a cruel echo in the back of Damen’s mind, which is why something this self-sacrificial doesn’t make any _sense._

Laurent doesn’t look good. There’s blood everywhere, and Damen grabs his hand, Laurent’s grip already weakening inside his own. There’s nobody close enough to help, and with a rush of panic he realizes there might not be anything anyone could do, anyway — the damage is too severe.

“It’s not like I have anything to live for. And besides, people do crazy things for love,” Laurent replies lightly, voice sounding remarkably even considering the fact that he’s bleeding out in Damen’s arms.

“Y-you—” Damen can’t bear to finish the words. He can hear his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears, trying to make sense of what just happened.

The words finally hit, moments later, harder than the impact of Laurent’s shoulder into his gut. Is the world truly so cruel, that it will give him something like this only to take it away mere moments later?

“Are you always this articulate?” Laurent huffs, trailing a finger down the length of Damen’s jawline. His fingers come away dipped in red.

A bizarre feeling overcomes Damen: with a rush, he feels his strength returning to him, even as his emotions drain until he feels empty with the realization of what’s to come.

“I’m going to kill him,” he says, the clarity of certainty calming his movements as he steps forward. The deal’s been broken: Laurent was harmed — worse than, Damen barely recognizes — and the Regent no longer has any claim to Damen’s strength.

Laurent smiles, slight and shaky. “Wish I could see it.”

The Titan roars from nearby, and the commotion must have alerted Nik, because he rushes out of the house clad entirely in armor with Pegasus alongside him. He takes in the scene quickly, analyzing all that he needs to in a heartbeat.

“Stay with him,” Damen commands, voice brooking no argument. Nik nods in response, and with confirmation that Laurent won’t be alone, he wastes no time in hauling himself atop Pegasus.

Pegasus, like he always does, knows exactly what Damen needs without words, and they careen toward the Titan with all of the fury of the gods backing Damen’s prowess.

 

* * *

 

Truth be told, Damen hardly remembers the fights. He knows he fought the Titans that crawled out from the deep bowels of the earth — their dark, black blood drenches him and they all lay dead or incapacitated, unable to wreak the havoc they'd been summoned for.

Driven entirely mad by the thought of Laurent sacrificing himself for Damen, they didn't stand a chance. 

Damen only comes back to himself when a soft nose nuzzles against the junction between his neck and collarbone. Pegasus knickers softly, and the haze clears to see his loyal steed pressing up against him, eyes far too intelligent for any mere beast. He nudges Damen again, and Damen realizes the gesture conveys concern. The threat has been eliminated, now, and Damen finally releases a shaky, uneven breath as he slumps against his horse's shoulder. 

Pegasus knickers once more, bending his neck and lipping at Damen's bare and bloodied skin in a gesture of affection.

There’s a tremendous presence by him, suddenly, and Damen turns to see a too-bright figure descending in front of him. He glows with the energy of the gods, blazing and brilliant in his effortless display of power.

It's immediately clear exactly who is gracing Damen with his presence.

“You’ve done well for yourself, son,” the god of sky and thunder says as soon as his feet hit the ground. The words rattle in Damen’s brain, not quite linking together amidst the weary exhaustion, fury, and hurt at the day's events.

The medallion, the blessing, the strength…

It makes sense, finally, snapping into place like a piece of rubber stretched thin and let go without warning.

“When you were young, the Regent administered a potion to you that rendered you mortal,” the god says, responding to the unasked question. “We were left to watch you from afar, only able to do little things to nudge you along. It has been quite the journey, and you’ve made us all so proud, Damianos.”

It’s the praise he’s been seeking for what feels like eternity, but Damen’s tongue sticks to the back of his throat. He doesn’t need this, right now. There’s only one thing he truly needs.

“I have to go check on Laurent,” he says, averting his gaze from the effervescence of the god. He whistles sharply to Pegasus, and his — dad, he supposes — nods understandingly at him.

Unkempt hair whips around his face as Pegasus departs Olympus at breakneck speed, and Damen thinks dizzily that he’ll acknowledge this encounter once he knows that everything will be alright.

Except —

Except that never comes.

As Pegasus lands, Damen’s worst fears are confirmed. One look at Nik’s face tells him all he needs to know.

Laurent is dead.

“You need to rest,” Nik says immediately. “You’re hurt, and the blood—”

Damen looks down at himself, and realizes what Nik’s talking about. The blood of Titans on him is toxic, sizzling and burning his exposed flesh.

He hardly feels it, in lieu of everything else.

“I’m going,” he says. There's no need to explain any further. 

"Stay safe."

 

* * *

 

The Regent looks shaken as Damen approaches. He’s drenched in the blood of the Titans the god had raised, and his attack on |Olympus has been unsuccessful.

 _Good,_ he thinks savagely. Let the god feel fear, for once. Let him lose his composure as he realizes exactly _who_ he’s fucked with. With all that Damen's lost, it feels satisfying to know he's not the only one suffering.

It’ll only last a moment, anyway. Damen relishes the brief seconds before it all turns to shit.

“I’m here to make a deal,” Damen says. The words hurt as he forces them out of his throat, but he manages. “You’re not in a position to disagree.”

The Regent’s smile unfurls slowly. He feels as though he has the upper hand once again, Damen knows. “As our previous agreement didn’t work out, I find myself only dealing in souls, now.”

“Mine for his,” Damen says firmly. This close to the edge of the river, he can see the swirling pool of souls. They look lost, expressions capturing their fear and apprehension, and he’s never been more sure of a decision in his entire life. “You’ll let him go and take me instead.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” the Regent says. He leans forward just enough to dip a finger into the river, and suddenly Laurent’s soul becomes visible to Damen — he’s far away, swirling toward the bottom of the deep water. In death, his features look deceptively relaxed, a far cry from the agony rippling across his face as he’d been crushed to death. “He’s not worth the trouble.”

Judging by tone of his words, the Regent’s speaking simply because he must know, just as Damen does, that he would do anything to save him.

Damen glares at the god even as he sticks out a hand, and they shake on it before Damen turns and dives headfirst into the sickly-looking waters.

Immediately, he feels his strength leaving him once again, only this time it’s — different. He’d still retained the essence of life when his powers had first been stripped, but that guarantee has dissolved now. Along with his abilities, his body ages rapidly as soon as he’s submerged, and it’s not just strength vanishing, but his very life force.

He pumps his arms as vigorously as he can manage until he’s in close proximity to Laurent’s soul, and it takes every ounce of effort to clamp his arms around the drifting body and kick until they breach the surface.

Damen knows with immediate certainty as soon as he touches Laurent’s soul that he’s about to die. It’s worth it, though, and poetic in a way — Laurent sacrificed himself to save Damen, and now he’s returning the favor. Damen’s already accomplished all he’s needed to: he discovered his family, and saved them from absolute peril, foiling the Regent’s plans in the process. And Laurent… Laurent’s been under the Regent’s thumb for so long, he deserves the chance at life. To live, unfettered, and do as he wishes without being tied to a cruel and manipulative master.

Damen closes his eyes and smiles, knowing the trade is well worth it.

 

* * *

 

The moment never comes.

Even resigned to it, Damen fears the moment his last bit of energy is sapped from him, but there's some sort of barrier between his soul and the ever-encroaching threat of death. His life refuses to be snuffed out, and as soon as Damen realizes it, his efforts to rescue Laurent more fully reinvigorate him.

He emerges from the water with a gasp, Laurent’s soul held close against his breast. The Regent, for the first time since Damen’s seen him, looks startled: his eyes are wide, and he breathes out a shaky, “Impossible—”

Anything’s possible with the blessing of the gods, apparently.

With Laurent safe, Damen gives the Regent of the Underworld no quarter. His assault is relentless, and he feels no remorse as he drops the battered god’s body into the river Styx as agonized souls swirl around him and force him to repent.

He has other priorities, anyway.

Carrying Laurent’s soul across the threshold of life and death feels intimate in a way that even holding him close in his arms while he was alive didn't, and Damen supposes it has something to do with the purest form of energy that he's currently touching. This is the entirety of what makes Laurent  _Laurent,_ and Damen yearns to hear him spit a backhanded compliment or laugh at the idiocy of a local townsperson.

Nik is still holding vigil over Laurent’s body, and he says nothing as Damen kneels beside the too-pale form with the man’s ethereal soul cradled gently within his arms. Laurent’s soul is drawn immediately to his body, and they both watch as his spirit settles into his more corporeal form. Laurent remains silent for far too long, body still enough that for a moment he and Nik are positive it didn’t work, until —

Laurent comes alive with a gasp, coughing up remnants of blood and water from the river Styx. Exhaustion overwhelms Damen as his mind and body catch up to all he’s done. But Laurent’s alive, and that’s all that matters.

 

* * *

 

When the dust settles, the facts are as follows: the Regent no longer possesses any claim on Laurent’s soul, Damen is fairly sure he’ll be visiting the Underworld again in short time to recover the soul of Laurent's fallen brother, and Olympus remains safe from the Titans  _and_ the god of the Underworld.

Damen stands at the entrance to the land of the gods, a wondrous construction of the finest architecture that leads to the highest of mountains, and speaks with his parents.

“You’ve earned your place among us,” Damen’s _father_ says, looking immensely proud. He’d been the one to write the note left on a ribbon around Pegasus’s neck. Pegasus, who was created as a present to celebrate Damen’s birth, and who had been heartbroken once he’d become mortal and fallen from the heavens.

His father, Damen has come to realize, has helped him get here, has given him the tools to find Laurent and be capable of saving him, and he owes him everything. Damen stares at his outstretched hand, a stark contrast to the deals he’d made with the Regent. There’s no ill will here of a malicious barter; no, his father’s offering him a _promise._

It’s everything Damen had been searching for: the confirmation of where he’s from, and where he’s meant to go. It’s everything Damen had been searching for, but something feels so intrinsically _wrong_ about it that he can’t help but pause.

“You’ll be a great god, Damianos,” Laurent says softly from beside him, and that’s when it hits him: Laurent’s human. He cannot walk amongst the gods like Damen can. He will not be welcome in their world.

Laurent turns to walk away, and Damen catches his arm. “Olympus, or this,” he says, helplessly.

“You’re an idiot,” Laurent says. The words are vaguely reminiscent of his biting tirade just before he’d _died,_ only now they’re much more watery, like Laurent’s holding back tears.

It solidifies the idea already forming in Damen’s thoughts. His chest aches something fierce, and he has to rein himself in from grasping Laurent so tightly that he bruises. 

Despite his countless fantasies of this exact moment, nothing compares to the actual moment that Damen finally presses his lips against Laurent's. Whether it's the anticipation, or the havoc they've both wreaked on each other and the world around them, or something else, it's been built up pretty significantly in Damen's mind, and his mind purrs an animal sort of satisfaction at how perfect the reality of it all is.

Their kiss tastes like home. 

The feeling of knowing with utter certainty that he’s in the right place settles into his heart, and Damen can't help the grin that stretches across his face as he showers Laurent with infinite kisses.

 

* * *

 

("If you have time to smile like an utter moron, you have time to kiss me better than that, brute.")

 


End file.
